The Steward's Daughter

The day Arthur Pierce, the man who raised me, hit number one on the Forbes list was the same day a girl in rags appeared on our doorstep.

The moment he saw her, tears of pure joy streamed down Arthur’s face.
It jarred a memory loose—something he’d told me years ago about a daughter who had vanished without a trace, a decade-long silence that had carved a hollow space in his heart.

The girl, Chloe, looked me up and down with a wounded expression. “Dad, is that your love child?”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

Seeing me standing there, so clearly at home, ignited a fire in her eyes. “What are you laughing at? I’m the real daughter of this house!”

Arthur was, in fact, the legal guardian my parents had named in their will. The moment I turned eighteen and signed the final inheritance papers, his role would legally revert to what it had always been in practice: the steward of my family’s estate.

A steward’s daughter calling me his illegitimate child? The irony was so thick I could have choked on it.

1

Arthur cut her off, his voice strained with embarrassment. “Chloe, darling, she’s not my daughter. She’s—”

Chloe immediately switched gears, adopting the air of a long-lost princess. She gestured at me with a flick of her wrist. “Then she must be the maid. Hey, you. Take my bag.”

She tossed a grimy canvas duffel onto the marble floor at my feet.

With a sigh, Arthur picked it up himself, treating her outburst like a childish tantrum. “Chloe, this is Ava Sinclair, the daughter of my dearest friends. Her parents passed away, so she’s been staying with us.” He shot me an apologetic look, and I gave a slight nod to show it was fine.

I’d been living with Arthur for eight years, ever since I was secretly flown back to the States after the accident that killed my parents. If it weren’t for him, I have no doubt I would have ended up dead at the hands of the relatives circling my family’s shares like vultures. He had just found his daughter; the last thing I wanted was to spoil this moment for him.

But it was quickly becoming clear his daughter was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated.

Chloe’s lip trembled, and fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Dad, look at her. She’s glowing. Does she look like someone who’s living on charity?” Her voice cracked. “I was kidnapped, sold to some backwoods family, treated worse than dirt. Why does she—an orphan—get to live like this?”

Arthur’s face crumpled with pain. He pulled her into a tighter embrace. “My poor girl. You’ve suffered so much. We’ll call the police, have them all arrested.”

But Chloe suddenly grew evasive, muttering only that she was too traumatized to remember the details. Arthur had no choice but to let it go, promising they would talk about it when she felt stronger.

That evening, Arthur had our cook, Maria, prepare a feast to welcome Chloe home.

Chloe sat in silence at the dining table, then her eyes welled up and she slammed her silverware down. The clatter echoed in the cavernous room. “After I was taken, all I ever got to eat was stale bread soaked in vegetable broth. But an outsider like her gets to eat like a queen.”

Arthur stroked her hair, his voice gentle. “From now on, Chloe, you can have anything you want.”

Her gaze sharpened, and she pointed at a dish of seared scallops I’d been enjoying. She flicked her fork in my direction, splattering sauce on my silk blouse, and turned to Arthur with a sob. “I think you mean she gets whatever she wants! You remember her favorite foods, but you completely forgot that almost everything on this table could send me into anaphylactic shock!”

Before Arthur could respond, Chloe’s voice dropped to a mournful whisper. “Of course, it’s been ten years. I wasn’t the one by your side. If I hadn’t risked my life to escape, would you have even remembered you had a daughter?”

Guilt washed over Arthur’s face.

The performance was so transparent it turned my stomach. I dabbed at the stain on my blouse with a napkin and signaled to Maria. “Maria, I’m finished. Since Miss Pierce is allergic, perhaps you should clear these dishes.”

A flicker of triumph crossed Chloe’s face, but then I continued, “And could you please book an appointment for Miss Pierce tomorrow? I’ll take her to an allergist myself.” I smiled sweetly at her. “If the tests come back negative, it means you were intentionally trying to provoke me. And you will offer me a formal, bowing apology.”

Arthur’s head snapped up. He opened his mouth, then closed it, turning instead to his daughter. “Chloe, that’s enough.”

Seeing that her father wasn’t taking her side, Chloe let out a wail and swept the plates and glasses off the table. They shattered on the floor. “You’re so biased! And you still say she’s not your secret daughter! If you two are so close, then there’s no reason for me to be here, getting in your way!”

She snatched her wretched bag and stormed toward the door. Arthur scrambled after her, nearly tripping over his own feet. “I only have one daughter, Chloe! It’s you!”

It took a long time, and the promise of an extravagant shopping spree, before he could coax her back inside.

As I rose to go to my room, I paused beside Arthur. I spoke softly, for his ears only. “Arthur. On your account, she gets four chances. Only four.”

2

His body went rigid, and a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

He knew exactly what I meant. My patience had a limit. And after the fourth time, Arthur’s position as even a steward in this house would become untenable.

But Chloe seemed determined to make everyone miserable.

Just as I was getting ready for bed, a loud, insistent banging rattled my door. I opened it to find Chloe leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a smirk on her face. She jabbed a thumb down the hall.

“I want that room, the one on the left. The staff said you’re the only one with the key.”

I glanced in the direction she was pointing. Of the seventeen bedrooms in this mansion, she had to pick the one that had belonged to my parents.

“Absolutely not. That was my parents’ room.”

Her face hardened. “What damn parents? Let’s get something straight. Your parents are dead. My dad took you in out of pity.” Her voice dripped with venom. “Oh, I get it now. You and your parents are all just parasites. A whole family of leeches, sucking my father dry.”

My voice dropped to a dangerously low temperature. “This is my house, not a stage for you to play princess. You’re back now, so you will follow my rules. And if I ever hear you speak about my parents again, you and your father will be out on the street together.”

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